Quite Engaging
by Hawki
Summary: Rogan and Sophie were engaged. Yet in the aftermath of the Curien Mansion Incident, that engagement was tested. After all, both were engaged in so many other issues, it was hard to find time for each other.
1. Cold

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**The House of the Dead: Quite Engaging**

**Chapter 1: Cold**

There were a few givens in life.

One was that winter was cold in the United Kingdom, even in just the last days of the first month of the season. Two, was that the food provided was equally bland as in the US. And third was the fact that being severely wounded by a genetic monstrosity tended to leave you in a position where you weren't able to do much.

Or rather, were told you couldn't do much. Because physically, Sophie Richards felt fine, bar the cold weather and an empty stomach. But no, said the doctors (AMS appointed, all of them), she had to lie still, lest she open up the wound she'd suffered in the Curien Mansion Incident just a week before. She was a scientist, but even she had to be reminded of the consequences of having an axe tear into the right side of your chest. That she hadn't bled out, let alone be consumed by the undead was a miracle in its own right and none of the white coats were intent on losing another person to death.

Which was almost as bad as undeath. But still bad nonetheless.

Sophie rolled over onto her left side, reflecting on the bitter givens. The cold, the food, the fact that she couldn't even roll onto her right without experiencing crippling pain...pain that wasn't even present unless she deliberately put pressure on it, hence why she wanted to be able to walk through the lodge AMS had rented. She hated this. Hated lying here like a stuffed doll while the people close to her went around their business of ensuring that the people of the world didn't know that there'd been a zombie outbreak in the closing month of 1998, that it wasn't the first one, and might not be the last either. Hated lying here because all she could do was rest...and remember...

People dying around her...

The phone call she'd made...

Being carried away by Hangdman...

The wound inflicted by the Chariot...

The screams...

This couldn't last, Sophie reflected as she got off her left side and instead lay on her backside, rubbing her hands on her forehead and through her increasingly lank hair. She needed something...someone...

"You awake Sophie?"

...even Rogan.

_Especially Rogan..._

"Yes...thankfully..." the geneticist murmured, slowly propping up her back against her bed, ignoring the spikes of pain that occasionally struck her wound.

Rogan's visage darkened. "Bad dreams?"

Sophie didn't answer. Less than two weeks ago, she'd have confided in Rogan in an instant but now...well, it seemed stupid to. What was there to say? That she was having "bad dreams?" Was that meant to take priority when so many other people had lost their lives to Curien's madness? Was Rogan meant to sympathise with her, considering that even after pulling the plug on Curien's factory of undeath, they were still running damage control with everyone from AMS to SIS?

"Tea and toast again I'm afraid," Rogan said, helping Sophie settle a tray down on her lap. "There's so many people here, the local store's running out."

Sophie remained silent. Toast and tea...the toast was alright (it was British after all), but she needed something stronger than tea. Coffee, preferably. It had kept her awake during her research (the non-mad scientist kind) and would have kept her awake longer while in bed. But knowing that she couldn't complain, she took a bite of the cooked bread and smiled faintly at her fiancée.

"You going out?" she asked.

Rogan nodded. Trench coat, tie...just like what he'd been wearing when he'd shown up at the Curien Mansion. It was where he'd be headed today with G, just like he did every time from dawn until dusk.

"Have a nice day then..." Sophie murmured. "I'll be waiting for you."

Rogan's eyes seemed to shift their gaze for a bit, but apart from that, he remained stoic. Getting up from the bed, he headed towards the door...and stopped.

"Listen..." he said. "I've been thinking...about..."

"Rogan, where are you?"

"...coming, G."

"Just go..." Sophie smiled. "You have more important things to do."

"Yeah..." Rogan murmured. "Important..."

And with that, the door was opened...and closed.

Putting the tray on a table of drawers beside her, Sophie almost wished that right now, this second, some stragglers from the mansion would barge in, assault her, and prompt Rogan to save the day. Yes, it was stupid, and feminists wouldn't approve of her line of thought, but the truth was that nearly dying together could be a very bonding experience. Heck, in movies or even video games, this would have been the ideal time for the two to take their relationship to the next stage. They'd met when Rogan was liaising was the DBR Corporation, Sophie his contact. One thing led to another and before they knew it, engagement rings had appeared on their fingers. But now? With her copped up in here, and Rogan pre-occupied in the winter weather, they'd gone from limited communication (as per her mansion assignment) to practically no communication.

Sighing, Sophie reached for the tea.

It was already cold.

* * *

_A/N_

_So yeah. Basic romance story between Rogan and Sophie, set after the first game. Not the best thing I've ever written, but I'll address that at the story's end._


	2. Thaw

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**The House of the Dead: Quite Engaging**

**Chapter 2: Thaw**

"Hey Rogan...you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Uh-huh...and it's not raining right now either."

The rain...it was always raining. Always overcast. And always so bloody cold. And Rogan was sick of it. Almost as sick as being an errand boy for the AMS and the powers that were this side of the Atlantic.

"You know, you can talk to me..." G continued, making a turn off the main road down the cobblestone path that led to the Curien Mansion. "I mean...it hasn't even been two weeks yet, but..."

"I'm _fine_..." Rogan replied, gazing out over the drab countryside.

"Right...and what about Sophie?"

Rogan gazed at his partner, whose gaze was entirely focussed on the road ahead. It was uncomfortable, really, how G knew everything about him, but Rogan couldn't say the same. His age, his nationality, his real name...all kept classified by the AMS. If he hadn't been such a good shot with a pistol, Rogan might have requested another partner.

"What about Sophie?" Rogan asked.

"Only that you haven't been able to spend much time with her. That she's got physical scars. And psychological ones."

"Everyone bears scars."

"Course they do," G answered coolly as he drove into the mansion's courtyard. "How they heal is another matter."

Rogan might have suspected his partner was trying to rile him up, if he wasn't aware that of the fact that over the years he'd worked with the man, he'd never done any such thing. The cold didn't seem to bother him. Fighting the undead didn't seem to bother him. Being called back and forth between their residence and the mansion didn't seem to bother him.

_And yet he's bothered by Sophie..._Rogan thought.

_Aren't you? _his mind asked.

The agent remained silent in both mind and body. He was worried about Sophie. He was meant to be there for her. To comfort her. To work out whether nearly being killed by the undead changed things between them. But no...AMS had another job for him. One that while not as pulse pounding as fighting Doctor Curien's monstrosities, was making up for it by being far more frustrating.

"Agent Rogan, Agent G...you're late. Again."

And Keren Manegold was the source of that frustration.

Somehow, Rogan suspected that AMS would have preferred it if he and G had never been involved. True, dealing with threats like what the Curien Mansion provided was effectively its mandate, but while international in scope, it was American based. SIS however, was British based, and since the mansion was on UK soil, they had full jurisdiction. And glancing at the SAS members that patrolled the courtyard, still present on the oft chance that even one of Curien's creations still drew breath (did the undead actually breathe?), Rogan felt that the degree of frustration was mutual. He and G had managed to fight their way through the mansion with a pair of pistols. These fellows were armed to the teeth, yet were performing mop up duty.

The agents entered the tent that Manegold had had set up nearly two weeks ago-in part to keep the rain out, in part because conducting business inside the mansion seemed too distasteful. That, or SIS wanted whatever information they could salvage for themselves. As far as Rogan was concerned, they were welcome to it. As far as AMS was concerned however, no-one had a monopoly on that information. Not SIS, nor the DBR Corporation.

_At least we've been spared dealing with the lawyers of the second group..._

"I'd offer you tea..." Manegold said as she walked over to a desk that had been set up in one of the corners, identical to the ones used by her cohorts. "But we're running low."

"And you don't want people to wonder why so much tea is being bought," G observed. "Or to have any suspicions about something happening at the mansion."

"True..." Manegold admitted. "Problem is, something _did _happen. And I only have your word to go on it."

"And our guns, if you want to see how many times they were fired," Rogan murmured, feeling a stab of annoyance that was like the other thousand stabs he'd had over the past week. "Oh, and the scientists...tell me, how are _they _being treated?"

"That's not my job, as you know," Manegold answered. "And watch yourself, Agent Rogan. I know your fiancé worked for DBR. If it wasn't for the debt this country owes you, I'd take her off your hands in an instant."

Rogan scowled. Off his hands...he barely got any time to spend with Sophie anyway. Some bloody favour.

"Still..." Manegold continued. "It won't be my problem for much longer. By all accounts, the mansion has been...cleansed."

"And will remain under SIS investigation," G added.

"Of course. The mansion is on UK soil. The incident happened on our soil. It's therefore our affair," Manegold answered. "Of course, AMS is welcome to...assist, us." She let out a rare smile. "Actually, that's why I called you here today."

Rogan raised an eyebrow. G did nothing. And somewhere on the mansion, a single gunshot rang out, no doubt signalling the demise of another zombie.

_Cleansed my arse...these people are playing with fire..._

"Doctor Curien was...well, mad," Manegold said. "I think we can agree on that."

"Don't think..._know_," G murmured. "I know the type."

"No doubt. But the fact remains that he was officially an employee of the DBR Corporation. A corporation that, unwittingly of course, provided him with the means to raise the dead."

"But that was his goal," Rogan pointed out. "To study the divide between life and death."

Manegold stared at him. "Are you _defending_ him, agent?"

"No. Of course not. But I know that the people working under him were doing so for good reasons."

Manegold smirked. "Of course. What your fiancé told you no doubt."

Rogan remained silent. He wanted to speak, but right now, the sooner he got off the grounds of this...house of the dead, the better.

"But back to the DBR," Manegold continued. "One way or another, it provided Curien everything from funds to employees. And...that's not all."

"Not all?" G asked. "What do-..."

"Caleb Goldman. Ring a bell?"

G nodded. "DBR's CEO. Geneticist, philanthropist, businessman...kind of an environmentalist too in recent years. Why?"

"Because, in recent years...well..." Manegold looked uneasy. "Goldman's...elusive. But of a recluse. But we've noticed something over the last few years...actually about as long as Curien was working here. His projects have become more and more secretive. His speeches about humanity and the natural world have become more...intense."

"So?' Rogan asked. "Lots of people are concerned about those issues."

"Yes, but how many people are the CEO of a company that was involved in making _zombies_?" Manegold asked.

Rogan and G remained silent. As far as Rogan was concerned, the answer was definitely in the low digits. As far as G was concerned...well, Rogan didn't know what G thought, or knew. But he had his suspicions...

"So Goldman is getting your attention," G murmured. "And no doubt he's denied any knowledge of Curien's intentions."

"Of course. But we only have his word for it. And since he's of Italian citizenry, we don't have the authority to conduct our own investigation."

"But you're secret intelligence," Rogan pointed out. "Since when does that stop you?"

"Technically, it doesn't," Manegold admitted. "But you two are AMS. You _have _the authority to investigate where Goldman really stands on the matter."

Rogan snorted. "So...you take the mansion for yourselves. And we do your dirty work."

"And in return we agree to keep the American government's role in this incident secret," Manegold pointed out.

"Role? What-..."

"Formula X, gentlemen. I'm sure G can tell you all about it?"

Rogan glanced at G. The agent didn't meet his gaze.

"No? Well, we all keep secrets. And besides, I'm sure you had no idea it would find its way into Curien's hands, did you?' Manegold asked.

There was a roaring in Rogan's ears, and not only because the rain was picking up. He almost wished he had something to shoot at-that would have been far more simple than the situation he found himself in. Secrets, back scratching, and now the prospect of AMS investigating one of the most powerful men in the business world based on nothing more than secrecy and certain statements. Well, G was perfectly welcome to do that as far as he was concerned. Right now, all he wanted to do was collapse on a couch and make up for all the sleep he'd been missing.

"That will be all gentlemen," Manegold said. "You're dismissed."

Heading out of the tent without a word of protest, Rogan found those words to be the most pleasing he'd heard all day.


	3. Warm

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**House of the Dead: Quite Engaging**

**Chapter 3: Warm**

Night was cold.

That was given. But if one accepted the current climate as the average for this miserable part of the world, then nights were still cold by that average. And even lying in bed did nothing to alleviate that. Not the covers, not the tea, not even reading a piece from National Geographic about how the world would be getting much warmer over the next few decades. Even if the next century (and next millennium for that matter) was indeed going to feature a warming Earth with nine billion humans on it by 2050, Sophie didn't doubt that there'd still be cold places in the world.

"Sophie? You awake?"

Whether Rogan would be there was another matter.

The scientist put down the article just before Rogan entered, apparently having decided to come in regardless of what her response was. He'd also apparently decided to ditch his tendency to wear his trench coat and tie 24/7, wearing nothing but a formal shirt with a gun and holster slung around it. Apparently AMS's dressing standards didn't apply to agents that were off duty.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, refusing to meet her gaze.

"No...no, you didn't," Sophie murmured, wondering what her fiancé would have said if he _had _woken her, and why he was bothering asking such a question at all when he hadn't waited for a response in the first place.

"Good...good..."

And the wonder began to go where the sun had gone to set this cold December night. Sophie hadn't seen much of Rogan over the past week, but still knew him well enough to tell that something was bothering him. His refusal to meet her gaze, his awkward movements, as if he wanted to pace but couldn't do so in the space available to him...

"So..." Sophie began, managing to sit up straight in the bed despite the pain shooting through her side. "How did it go?"

"Hmm?"

"Manegold. The mansion. Debriefing. You know, AMS work."

"Oh fine...fine...I'm basically off the hook. Case closed. Dead and buried."

"...is that a pun?"

"Hmm? Yeah...sure, why not?"

Rogan had stopped pacing now, and had instead sat down in a wooden chair that certainly wasn't meant for someone who looked as tired as he did. Though the table nearby did give him a place to rest his holstered pistol.

"Rogan, talk to me..." Sophie began. "What's bothering you? The mansion? The SIS?"

"Sophie-..."

"Is it me?" she asked, her pitch rising as well as her frustration. "You've been avoiding me for a week Rogan."

"Avoiding you?" the agent snapped back. "What, you think I like cleaning up Curien's mess? A mess that _you _helped with? Yes Sophie, I like risking my life to clean up your little clusterfuck."

Sophie stared at him, his words more painful and sharp than the wound in her side...and much closer to her heart as well.

But was it unwarranted? How far did personal responsibility extend, even when one's intentions were perverted by someone like Doctor Curien?

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," Rogan sighed. "I've got a new assignment. It'll start early next year...or sooner. I need to converse with AMS first."

"How nice for you," Sophie murmured.

"Goldman's the target of our investigation," Rogan continued. "Which means heading to Italy. Which means that...it may be harder to see each other."

"And that's what you wanted to tell me?" Sophie asked, the emotional pain mutating into the kind that stemmed from sorrow rather than rage, or at least some strange emotion that existed between the two. "Just say it Rogan, it's finished. It's over."

"No, it's not."

"Yes it is!" she snapped. "It was over the minute you showed up at the Curien Mansion! Gun in hand, popping off rounds...was I _ever _in your sights, Thomas? Or-..."

Rogan reached for the gun. At first, Sophie's imagination entertained him using it. Instead, he simply emptied the magazine and tossed the pistol over to the bed.

"Look at it," he grunted. "No iron sights."

Sophie glanced at it, not sure what his point was, nor what iron sights were. Still, at his prompting, she nonetheless fingered the pistol.

It was cold. Just like everything else.

"Are we through, Sophie?" Rogan asked softly, resting his eyes in a hand and rubbing them. "Tell me if we are."

"You tell me," she shot back.

"I can't," the agent said. "I'd like to think that the answer is no. I'd like to think that despite everything that's happened, and everything that's going to happen, we can still make this work. I'd like to think that what we have is just as real before the Curien Mansion incident."

"And I'd like to think that as well," Sophie murmured, lying back down in bed. "But thinking about something doesn't make it so."

Rogan remained silent. Maybe everything had been said. Maybe there was nothing left to say. Maybe he had come to the same conclusion that she had, that what they had, if it ever existed, was something that couldn't be any longer. Rogan had his job to do. And she had to find a new job herself. And whatever that job was, it certainly wouldn't be with DBR.

"You alright?" Rogan asked suddenly.

"Just cold..." she murmured. "That's all."

It seemed like the end of the conversation. Certainly she heard the sound of Rogan's footsteps. Yet that didn't explain why those footsteps were coming closer to the bed. Or why the blankets were raised slightly. Or why Rogan was the one holding them.

"Rogan?" Sophie asked. "What are you doing?"

"Making you warm..." he said softly.

If it was anyone else, Sophie might have done anything from getting out of the bed to resorting to screams. And part of her mind told her that she should do just that, considering that Rogan had fallen back into the realm of "anyone else," or at best, the "friend zone." Yet too little of her mind was functioning for that. And even as she found herself short of room, even as Rogan brought down the blankets on both of them...she wasn't sure what to feel. But at least it was warmer.

And there was something else to consider, in this...engaging, moment. Something that Sophie had forgotten all about in the last week. A certain diamond ring on her left ring finger...a sign of engagement.

It was still on it by the morning's end.

* * *

_A/N_

_So, that's that. A short story done._

_I can't say I'm completely sattisfied with this, especially this chapter. I will admit, I did plan for there to be a sex scene here, and I did start writing it. However, I just couldn't pull it off, even after trawling through the Internet to get writing tips. In the end, I did my usual technique of simply leaving the implication. I admit it's a cop-out, but in this case, I'd rather cut it out rather than give such a scene of dubious quality._

_At this point in time, I don't have any other _House of the Dead _stories on my 'to write' list. By way of shameless plugging, my current writing focus is on a _Star Wars _story titled _Whispers of Infinitude_. At least in that, I don't have to worry about sex scenes. ;)_


End file.
